Dreams
by princesscharming101
Summary: For Brea, dreams have often become muddled with reality. But what happens when she can't wake up from her nightmare? Will the 21 Jump Street crew be able to save her? Story is better than prologue, I promise! Rated T just in case... R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Have you ever had the dream?

You know the one I'm talking about, the one that is so realistic that you wonder whether you are sleeping at all. It feels, tastes, even smells like reality. You are not sleeping, but wandering through a world of endless possibilities. And the best part is that you get to wake up. You can have a new adventure every night, and no matter how bad the dream is, how horrible the monsters or terrifying the heights, you needn't worry, since you would be waking up in a few hours anyway. And no matter how good the dream is, you just can't wait to wake up, for the pure satisfaction of knowing you had it.

Well, I had those all the time. And even better, I knew the perfect recipe for a life-like dream. The trick is to stay up late enough. If you stay up till one or two in the morning and wake up at six, you sink into a deep, restful sleep in which dreams go uninterrupted by passing cars or barking dogs.

My parents knew it was bad for me, and I knew it too. Eventually the lack of sleep would catch up to me. But I was having a helluva time, while it lasted. It was an addiction. A secret luxury that I hoarded, because it was so incredibly rare. None of my friends could do it. My parents never understood. Even my brother looked at me strangely. But it was worth it. All the teasing jokes, the whispered comments, the curiosity; it was worth it, because I had something nobody else could have.

Some people read books, because they want to escape life. Some people watch TV. I used to be like that, desperate to numb my waking hours because life was too bitter to look straight in the eye. I used to read, to watch TV, to find old movies that nobody else had seen, just so I could escape the confines of my restricted life. But that was before my first walking dream. When I woke up, I struggled to find some way to replicate it, to make it happen again. And by some miracle, I discovered the formula for it. It was an experience that was perfect, unique, and entirely mine.

One of the best things about my dream world was that I could decide what to dream before I went to sleep. Well, almost. Whatever I fell asleep thinking about was inevitably what I would dream about. It's a gift I've had since I was little, when I used to dream about nothing more harmful than big bird or the cookie monster.

Unfortunately, I couldn't control what happened in the dream once I got there. So while my fantasies had me floating higher than air, my nightmares would drag me all the way into the depths of hell's fiery oceans.

But there is a price to pay for everything. Like they say, there is no beauty without pain. And some of my dreams were beautiful. So beautiful that I could hardly stand thinking about them in my waking hours. In my dream world, I could walk across the velvet sky and whisper to the stars. I could stand in a tropical rainforest and see every tiny movement of every animal surrounding me. I could dig to china and never get tired. It was incredible.

Some of my dreams focused on the intricacy of nature, or the brotherly love I had for my friends and family. But some, (most, if I was being honest with myself) focused on a different kind of love. Deep, passionate, breath taking, loyal, infuriating, healthy love. And it tended to settle on one guy. One specific, perfect, and horrifyingly unreachable guy.

Specific because I knew his name, his looks, his childhood, and his personality. Perfect because he was tall, broad, muscular, and dashingly handsome. He had mid-length blond hair and irresistible brown puppy dog eyes. He was perfect because of his charm, humor, mild intelligence, and argumentative temperament. His shy crooked smile and fierce faithfulness made me swoon. He was absolutely perfect for me, someone to grow old with, someone who would never leave me. And he was fully unattainable. Unfeasible, unlovable because he did not exist. Because he was a fictional character in a 1980's cop show. Because he was Doug Penhall, undercover officer at the 21 jump street chapel.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I know, this chapter feels a little unnecessary, but I wanted to show a little bit of Brea's personality and emphasize on her obsession. It's also a little long, but I didn't really know where I wanted to cut off. *Disclaimer* I do not own Doug Penhall, or any of the Jumpstreet members. Thanks a lot, and please read & review!_

Chapter One

I sat in the driver's seat of my car, listening to my heart, eyes closed. The steady beat that kept me tethered to this earth, kept me from floating away, but also made the floating possible.

_Thump-Thump._

Silly thought, I scolded myself as my eyes popped open. I sighed, and turned my key in the ignition. The thing roared to life. I smiled to myself. The thing. The beast. The tank. So many names for my beat up Pathfinder, colored in a particularly revolting shade of dull red. As many names as there were for this clunker, "car" was not one of them. Five years ago, maybe, but definitely not now.

"At least you have a car, which is an improvement," I murmured quietly to myself as I backed out of my steep driveway. I sped the short five or so miles to school, parking in one of the mildly crowded lots near the side of the school.

I examined myself in the mirror before I got out. Green eyes, highlighted with purple eye shadow, naturally unnoticeable eyebrows, petite nose, and high cheekbones. My lips were a little uneven; bottom fuller than top, and my shoulder length mousy brown hair was unnervingly curly. I adjusted the rearview mirror, applied a light peach lip-gloss, and hopped out of the car, landing lightly on my feet. I was about 5"5', slightly pudgy, and wore a carefully orchestrated jean and blouse combo, designed to make me appear lean and athletic. I grabbed my bag out of the car and flung it over my shoulder, adjusting my belt and teetering in my pumps as I climbed a grassy hill towards the east entrance of the school.

I followed a host of juniors into West Bank High School, commenting on people's clothes, greeting my classmates casually. I stopped off at my locker before class, to grab a couple of books. I had never been astounding at school, with a few AP classes, and a GPA of about 3.4. It was enough to get into college, but by no means would stand out. That pretty much defined my life. Enough. It had been enough for my parents, would be enough for my brother, and for me. Enough, but not extraordinary. I managed to slide by amongst the masses of students at Bank, unnoticed by teachers, unbothered by jocks, junkies, dorks, and other such types. I was pretty much normal, at least on paper.

My personality, now that was a different story. I had style. I had flair. I had originality. I had a grand total of one best friend. Well, that's what cha get, I guess. I heard a warning bell ring. Five minutes to get to French. Wonderful. Hey, and speaking of best friends, here comes one now.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked Jenna, my five-foot four-inch tall, dirty blond and blue-eyed best friend.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Cute outfit, by the way," she commented, leaning across me to get her book out of the locker. "You do your French homework?" she inquired.

"Nope. You do yours?"

"Nope."

"This is going to be fun then. Good thing she accepts homework late."

"And that it's only worth five points."

I laughed at her comment and we rushed into the crowded classroom just as the bell rang.

"Vous avez été près de la fin. Sit, s'il vous plait." Madame said in the broken French we had all come to know and appreciate.

"Oui, madam. Nous sommes désolés." I murmured as we slid into our desks, conveniently located right next to each other.

"What the heck did she just say?" Jenna inconspicuously asked as Madame continued with her lecture.

"I think she told us that we were almost late, or something like that," I whispered, getting out a notebook to take notes. "How have you ever survived three years in this class? You don't understand a word."

"Well, you tell me. Dur."

"What would you ever do without me?"

"Fail, probably."

"Exactumundo. Now, pretend like you're taking notes."

"Okey dokey, artichokey."

The rest of the morning passed easily. The only class I had trouble with was math. I hated math. The only reason I did it was to get into college. That's it. I just didn't get it. I couldn't comprehend why there was only one answer to every question. It didn't fit into my reality, where there were a thousand different routes to an end.

That is why I have always excelled at English. I could BS my way through an entire paper and still get an A, because everything depended on a point of view. As long as you could prove your point of view, you were home free. It didn't have to be correct; it just had to make a certain amount of sense. Math had only one answer, one reality. And my answer often didn't make sense, according to math. Which was why I needed a tutor. Badly.

So, in exchange for help with French, good old Jenna was there to make my numbers fit into the thin lines of Algebra 2.

I was startled out of my reverie by the lunch bell ringing. I packed the hated Algebra book into my bag and headed out the door.

"Brea!" I heard my name shouted and turned to see my sort-of friend, sort-of more than friend, Devon, waving to me from a locker near by.

I quickly fluffed my hair and sauntered over. "How was AP Physics, ya braniac?" I asked teasingly.

"Terrible. I hate science. I don't get it at all." He moaned.

"Bull. You're just trying to make me feel better for taking a slacker class like APES," I said, referring to my science class, AP Environmental Science.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"How much you wanna bet?"

"None. I always lose."

"I know."

"Shut up," I said, shoving him lightly. "Here comes Jenna."

"Hey, guys, what's up?" she asked, a little breathless from the hike across campus, where she took ceramics.

"Not much. You wanna eat out, or just head to the lounge?" I questioned, ready to go.

"Lets just stay here. I have a paper to type next period." Devon said as we turned toward the Student Lounge. That was the only place on campus that actually sold edible food. We grabbed bagels and managed to find an empty table.

We chatted pretty much meaninglessly for the next half hour, until Devon left to get a head start on his paper. Jenna turned to me conspirationally as his back disappeared around the corner. "That was some pretty obvious flirting, goin on there," she said, eyebrows raised.

"On my part, or his?" I asked innocently, examining my fingernails with sudden interest. They needed a new coat of paint.

"Both. So, are you going to prom together? Do you like him? Are you sure he likes you? Have you seen him with anyone else?" She fired questions like bullets, too eager to hear the answers.

"Not yet. Maybe. I'm pretty sure he does, and no, I haven't seen him with anyone else."

"When do you think he's gonna ask? You're going to say yes right? And what's this nonsense about 'maybe' liking him? You've had a major crush on him since eighth grade!"

"I don't know when. At the game, probably, though that's not very romantic. But that sounds like him." I sighed discontentedly. "I probably will say yes, if only for the sake of having a date. I just, I don't know. Do you ever feel like you're settling for less? Like there's something more out there? That's how I feel about Dev right now. I'm disenchanted."

"Well, who's enchanting you, then, if not Devon? Dev is going places, hon. He is nice, funny, and he's gonna be rich. What more do you want? I'm telling you, stick with him, and you could be set up pretty nice for the rest of your life." Jenna told me, pointing out the practicality of my relationship with Devon.

"I know all of that, and I probably will. I just, I don't want to be held down by all this, you know? Have my life planned out for me. And what makes you think I'm being enchanted by somebody else?" I asked, curiously. Jen wasn't usually this intuitive.

"Please, Bee. Nobody just 'becomes disenchanted.' There's always someone willing to point out the flaws. So who is he?" she demanded, getting a little impatient.

"Well…" I hesitated. I knew how insane my obsession with Doug Penhall was, but she was my best friend. She would understand. I thought. I hoped.

"Babe, you know you can tell me anything. I'm a total weirdo too, you know?" she cooed encouragingly into my ear.

"Okay, fine. This is beyond crazy though. They should lock me up for this. Well, here goes. I think I'm in love with a TV character." I grimaced as I waited for the flurry of questions.

"Yeah, you should go to the funny farm. I'm just kidding!" she threw up her hands in surrender as I gave her a death glare. "I know what that's like. I've had crushes on lots of actors. Welcome to adolescence, sweetie!" She smiled knowingly.

"No, no it isn't like that. It's the character I'm in love with, not the actor. Okay, so you know how I've been having those life-like dreams? Well, most of them are about Doug Penhall. He's sweet, cute, strong, funny, charming, and his moral compass most definitely points north. I'm sorry, this is probably totally freaking you out." I apologized hesitantly.

"Well, it is a little." Jenna admitted, "But its just a phase, I'm sure of it! You'll grow out of it soon enough. For now, though, you've got to keep your eyes on the prize. Prom, graduation, college, marriage, life of successful bliss. Devon, not Doug. Speaking of which, what show is this guy on, anyway? Sounds like I gotta start watching it."

I laughed at that. Of course. It was so _Jenna_ to want to get in on the action, imaginary or otherwise. "It's this old show from the late eighties starring Johnny Depp. It's about undercover cops. It's called 21 Jumpstreet. You would probably like it, actually."

Jenna smiled with potential gleaming in her light eyes. She leaned across the table as the bell rang and gave me a hug. "So you're going to be okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to be okay," I reassured her, returning the hug. "I'll see you at the game." I threw my wrappers in the trash and hurried to my history class, where I never had to pay attention, eager to be daydreaming about Doug.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

I shoved my way through the masses of people crowding the halls after school. Jeez, didn't these people have anything better to do than get in my way? "MOVE!" I shouted at a bunch of freshmen that refused to skedaddle.

I had people to do, places to see! Or was it the other way around? I never knew anymore. And if I didn't get to work in the next ten minutes, I would have plenty of time to consider it (one of the advantages of being unemployed. Jen talked about all the extra time she had, all the time!).

Fresh, cold air greeted me as I finally flung open the doors at the end of the hallway. I paused for a minute, and then practically ran to my car. The only things that kept me from breaking into an all out sprint were my four-inch heels and the other cars rushing out of the crowded parking lot.

Jared, the familiar guy who worked at the front desk of the YMCA, buzzed me straight in, without waiting for me to dig my membership out of my purse. "Thanks." I breathed as I swooshed past him.

"No prob, Brea," I heard him say behind me, as he waved hesitantly. Poor guy, I thought. Nobody ever has time for him, since all he does is open doors. I should really be nicer to him. Maybe bring him a Starbucks sometime. Well, that wasn't going to happen today, I thought, as I deposited my bag in the Kris's office, grabbing my swimsuit and heading to a changing room.

I was a lifeguard/Swim instructor for the Y, veteran at the game for a little over a year. This was my first job, and it was pretty flexible, so it was a good pick for me. I had been really into swimming in middle school and my freshman year, but I had sort of blown it off for the past two years. I'd quit my club team, reverted to swimming only for high school season and whenever I happened to be at a pool. I sighed. I guess that's what happens when you grow up. You lose things.

I quickly slipped into a standard black Speedo one piece, and pulled my hair into a messy bun, to keep it dry from the unforgiving chlorinated water. I went back to the "lifeguard's office" and put my discarded clothes into my bag, checking the time on my cell before throwing that in as well. Whew, made it with two minutes to spare.

"In a hurry, Brea?" my boss, Kris, asked as she skeptically eyed my disheveled appearance.

"Yeah, I had to talk to a teacher after school. Sorry, I know I'm almost late." I apologized hurriedly.

"Well you didn't need to hurry, your three o'clock lesson canceled, remember? I thought I called you about that last week."

"Oh my gosh, you're so right! Man, I feel dumb now. At least I'm in plenty of time for my three-thirty lesson," I smiled hopefully at the tall, gray haired aquatics director.

"Well, since you're here, why don't you go see if Sam needs a break? She's been guarding for a few hours and I'm about to leave to teach my CPR class. Are you going to officially take that teaching course? It's fine if you can't, but I would eventually like to get everyone certified."

"Um, yeah, what are the dates for that again? It slipped my mind. I've had a lot of…personal stuff going on," I said sheepishly, knowing it wasn't fully true. I did actually have personal stuff going on, but it was no reason to blow off work stuff. My personal stuff usually entailed sleeping away most of my weekends or shopping.

"That's fine, I am in no hurry. You are actually more responsible than some of my college lifeguards," Kris said, looking a little perturbed. I guessed something had gone down before I'd gotten there.

"It begins in two weeks, for four hours every Saturday for the next month. If you miss a class, I've posted make-up dates on the door." She looked at her watch and started towards the door. "I hope to see you there. Now, I have to go, but can you check on Sam for me? Thanks, see you on Monday!" The door banged shut before I realized that she had left.

I pulled on a pair of running shorts and a regulation YMCA tee and slipped into a pair of cheap flip-flops. "Yo, Sammy!" I said as I stepped out of the office and onto the pool deck. "You need a break? I got here early. Forgot that my three o'clock got cancelled."

"Hey, Brea! Thank God, I had to pee so badly!" Sam, an athletic brunette laughed with relief at the sight of me.

"Well go, then! Good thing I got here though," I chuckled in return, shooing her out of the guard chair so I could take her place. "Busy day," I muttered to myself, scanning the almost empty pool. There was one elderly woman quietly exercising in a corner of the pool, and about three lap swimmers. Total. Sam probably could have gone to the bathroom long ago. Hell, she probably could have gone for coffee and these people wouldn't have noticed. But that was Sam. Paranoid was practically her middle name.

"Hey, thanks," Sam said from my side, startling me. "Have you seen the state of those bathrooms? Yuck! So hard to keep clean around here!" she pulled out a bottle of Purell and squirted a huge glob of it into her palm.

"When is Brian getting here?" I asked curiously, wondering where the next guard was. "Doesn't he usually arrive right around… now?"

"Yeah, he should be here any minute. Listen, do you want me to take your lessons? It's a Friday night; you probably have better places to be. Plus I need the hours, you know?" her attempt at nonchalance was easy to see through. Sam had broken up with her boyfriend of three years last week, and was taking it pretty hard. I didn't really need the hours, and if it would help her…

"Sure, just let me take the three-thirty. Matthew is my favorite. I work until about seven-thirty. Are you going to be okay?" I asked with concern. I hated to see my coworkers in pain. She smiled and gave me a bear hug that only soccer players could give. "Thank you," she whispered in gratitude.

At four o'clock I rolled out of the Y, satisfied with my day's work. I had taught Matthew the basics of dolphin kick, and how to dive, interspersed with plenty of games. He was an excellent swimmer; Butterfly was the only stroke he didn't know. That was amazing for an elementary school student, and he was barely five!

He reminded me of myself as a child, which was why I liked him so much. I genuinely enjoyed teaching. There is something about a child that makes one realize the possibilities in life.

I charged up the driveway and got out of the Hulk. Time to get ready for the big game!


	4. Chapter 4

**YO! IT'S BRITT HERE… SORRY IT HAS BEEN SOOO LONG SINCE I'VE UPDATED… STORIES KINDA GOT PUT ON THE BACKBURNER IN FAVOR OF MY REAL LIFE :D BUT ANYWHO, HERE'S A TRANSITIONAL CHAPTER, TO KEEP YOU SALIVATING… BECAUSE I KNOW THAT'S WHAT ALL THREE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THIS ARE DOING… NOT… HEHEHHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEE! Will update again soon, I promise…. READ AND REVIEW! Thanks!**

Chapter Three

Though my outfit was cute, sporty, and team-oriented, it still wasn't enough to entice Devon into asking me to prom. The whole night went great, of course. We flirted in between cries of joy and rage at a basketball game we weren't really paying attention to. When halftime came around, Jenna and I shared a pop, so as not to look too greedy. Guys hate it when you can finish your meal. My makeup never smeared, not even once.

The list of possible mess-ups went on forever, but I was pretty sure I had missed the truly obvious ones. And yet, at the end of the night, nothing. All I got was a hug and a "text me this weekend, maybe we'll chill."

I couldn't help being disappointed. It was too late to set another date up now. Guess I would be going stag to prom in a few weeks. The ultimate tragedy. I sighed in frustration.

God, why was I even trying so hard? Why did I expect him to be a gentleman? Why am I so easily disappointed? _Because you know that's not how a certain someone else would treat you_. A little voice in the back of my head whispered those treacherous words seductively into my sub-conscious. "Shut up!" I hissed out loud in reply.

"Hmm? Sorry, what did you say just then?" Jenna asked from the seat next to me. Her car privileges had been revoked for a reason I wasn't sure I wanted to know about, so I'd agreed to drop her off after the game.

"Oh, nothing. Just a little ticked that Devon didn't ask me. I mean, it wouldn't kill him to pick up on a hint here or there." I let the classic bitchy tone seep into my voice and stared straight at the road with agitation.

"Honey, don't worry about it. Guys never get a clue. You just need to go right out and tell him. Say, do you want me to have a little talk with him this weekend? I could give him the lowdown, you know."

I glanced over to see her adjusting her hair in a pocket mirror. As much as I loved and trusted Jenna, I couldn't bring myself to agree. That was the thing with her, she spilled everything. Couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it.

"Nah," I hastily answered. "I'll tell him myself. Not that it will be much fun, but so be it." My brave face was on now. Sure, it was a wimpy cop out, for a girl to ask a guy to prom, but if that was how it had to be, then I would do it.

"Mmkay," She murmured as I pulled into her driveway. "Call me tomorrow, okay? We need to go to the mall, cause I need a new jacket. Mine are all worn out, can you believe it?" she laughed and closed the door.

I waited for her to walk through her door, and then backed out of her driveway. My head spun with contradictions as I blindly made my way home. I knew that if Devon was truly interested in me, he would have asked me weeks ago. Yet the desperate, pathetic part of me wanted to go with him so badly that I was willing to betray my sex and just ask. I mean, it is the 21st century, is it not? Women are in every way equal to men. Well, every way but one. Men still owned the right to initiate a relationship. That just wasn't fair! But, on the other hand, women reserved the right to reject them. If I asked Devon to prom, I would be opening myself to rejection. And my fragile feminine self-esteem may break under such pressure. Of course, the fact that I was even considering becoming the man for a day pretty clearly shows the degradation of my self-esteem anyways.

I felt like the two sides of my conscience were locked in an epic battle, with no clear ending in sight. The winding drive home seemed to take forever as thoughts ran in circles around my brain. To be, or not to be, that was the question.

_Of course, _the sneaky voice from the back of my mind called out, _you could always try having one of those waking dreams again. Maybe you would find an answer that you wouldn't have thought of normally. _

Oh, you nasty, seductive voice, why do you tempt me so?

I grinned, resolution clear on my face as I glanced quickly into my rearview mirror. Guess I would be staying up later than I had expected...


End file.
